


The Sound of Settling

by satellites (brella)



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-07 06:39:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brella/pseuds/satellites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bart Allen decides that spending a couple of weeks with Wally and Artemis is the best way to adjust to twenty-first century life, Wally is forced to adjust, too. It’s going to take a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> We must be still and still moving  
> Into another intensity
> 
> — "East Coker," T. S. Eliot

Wally doesn’t understand how this is his life.

  
He’s standing at the door of Barry and Iris’ house, staring blankly down at the boy grinning up at him on the doorstep. The boy who, coincidentally, Wally has gotten to know far too well in the past several hours.   
  
“Sorry, we don’t want any,” he grumbles flatly, starting to close the door, but Bart zips in before he can even twitch.   
  
“Such a charmer! Hey to you, too, cuz!” Bart greets him. “Nice pad. Very retro. Very crash. Haven’t been here in ages. I smell food. Is there food?”   
  
“Did you hear me when I said we don’t want any?” Wally mutters under his breath, but Bart has already zoomed into the kitchen, where an unsuspecting Iris is probably putting the finishing touches on the pot roast.   
  
Wally is about to follow when his cell phone rings, and he’s seconds away from leaping out the window, but he fishes it out of his pocket and violently taps the green _answer_ button.   
  
“What?!” he snaps.   
  
A pause.   
  
“I was going to tell you Impulse is on his way,” Dick says carefully, “but it sounds like he ruined the surprise.”   
  
“Very funny,” Wally growls. “I’m in stitches here, really. What’s going on?!”   
  
“He kept breaching security,” Dick explains without an ounce of concern. Wally’s pretty sure that Bart has probably drained all chalance out of him. “I don’t care if he tags his spoilers. He’s out of control.”   
  
“Wow, _there’s_ some quality detective work.” Wally groans, running a hand through his hair. “So you threw him out. Great.”   
  
“Temporarily!” Dick emphasizes hurriedly. “At least until we can assess the situation and try to get him situated at the Cave. In the meantime—”   
  
“In the meantime he’s crashing Jay and Joan’s seventieth anniversary!” Wally shouts into the receiver just as Barry walks into the room.   
  
“Somebody’s cheerful,” Barry quips. Wally scowls at him. “I’m guessing Nightwing’s the one who sent our guest?”   
  
“Yes,” Wally hisses, and he hangs up, stuffing the phone back into his pocket.   
  
Barry has the gall to laugh.   
  
“Ah, c’mon, Kid; lighten up—”   
  
“Drop the ‘Kid’ junk, will you?” Wally interjects harshly, brushing past him and heading for the kitchen. “I’m not in the mood.”   
  
Barry sighs at his retreating form and shakes his head wearily before following.   
  
Bart is hopping enthusiastically around the kitchen, marveling at the wares and interrogating Iris too rapidly for her to answer. Joan is chopping tomatoes for the salad, looking far too amused, and Jay is seated at the kitchen table, chortling.   
  
“Is this a fridge? Like an _actual_ fridge? That’s _so_ crash! What do you keep in here? Is that—no way! _Margarine_! You guys are killing me!”   
  
“Margarine?!” Barry exclaims. “In _our_ fridge?”   
  
Iris looks away guiltily and busies herself with checking on the pot roast. Bart blinks at her before quietly closing the refrigerator, looking sheepish.   
  
“So… Bart,” Joan finally says. “I hear you played a big part in saving the city today.”   
  
Bart perks up and whirls on her, setting down the blender he’d been examining, and beams winningly.   
  
“Sure did!” he replies with zest. “Me and Flash _totally_ crashed the mode.”   
  
“Yeah, it was like a train wreck,” Wally mutters, taking an hors d’œuvre. Bart doesn’t hear him.   
  
“We made a great team,” Barry adds with a wink to Bart, who looks about ready to rocket off in ecstasy.   
  
Wally quickly turns on his heel and leaves the kitchen, trying to ignore the sourness swelling in the pit of his stomach. No one seems to notice. He sits down on the couch and folds his arms and passively listens to everyone laughing until Iris announces that dinner is served.   
  
That goes swimmingly, of course. Bart takes so many helpings that Wally doesn’t even get seconds, and everyone is charmed by Bart’s eccentric future-jokes, and Barry even ruffles the kid’s hair. Wally doesn’t say a word and no one prompts him to do so, and he doesn’t get a piece of cake because Bart is “a growing boy.”   
  
He does not know how this is his life.   
  
It’s just past eleven when Jay finally announces that he and Joan are shoving off. Joan gives Wally a hug that he awkwardly reciprocates, Jay claps Bart on the back, Iris hands out Tupperware containers filled with leftovers, and they’re gone, driving down the street with a parting honk of the horn.   
  
Bart waves after them until they round a corner and vanish, and then he flops down beside Wally on the couch, grinning. Wally glares straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge him.   
  
“Love your folks,” Bart declares. “ _My_ folks!”   
  
“They’re not _your_ —” Wally starts to snarl, but Bart interrupts.   
  
“Hey, question,” he says, sitting up and staring inquisitively at Wally, the yellow film of his goggles glinting in the light. “How can a guy with such a cool family be such a jerk?”   
  
Wally bristles, but doesn’t look over.   
  
“ _Excuse_ me?” he ekes out. Bart shrugs, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.   
  
“Well, no offense, but you’re not exactly the most welcoming guy ever,” he continues. “Seriously, do you _ever_ smile? Does it hurt too much? Is it like, a condition?”   
  
“I can smile just _fine_ ,” Wally bites back. “And I’m _so_ sorry for forgetting to roll out the red carpet.”   
  
“Is this just because I’m faster than you are?” Bart asks plainly, sounding genuinely interested.   
  
Wally finally sits up and turns his head sharply, glowering venomously at Bart, who stares back without flinching.   
  
“No,” he barks, surging to his feet and exiting the room in three strides. Iris is in the kitchen, finishing the dishes, and she looks up when he enters.   
  
“Whoa,” she says with wide eyes. “What’s the problem?”   
  
“Barry here?” Wally grinds out, glaring at the floor.   
  
“He’s—in the bathroom,” Iris replies hesitantly. “Why?”   
  
“I’m leaving.” Wally gives her a hug over the counter and pecks her on the cheek, averting her gaze. “Thanks for having me. Good to see you guys.”   
  
“Hold on,” Iris orders, grabbing his wrist before he can leave. He stumbles back when she yanks at him. Her eyes are drilling intensely into his, and he inadvertently gulps. “You’re not going anywhere. Sit down and tell me what’s wrong or I’ll make Bart come in here and blather it out of you.”   
  
Wally immediately slumps churlishly, feeling like a fifteen-year-old again about to be chided for sulking about being assaulted by dodgeballs, and obediently sits down on one of the stools at the counter. Iris throws the dishtowel over one shoulder and leans on the marble surface, raising her eyebrow expectantly.   
  
“What right does he have showing up here and suddenly being the next big thing?” he blurts out furiously, glaring sourly over his shoulder in the direction of the room that Bart is inevitably in the process of destroying.   
  
He turns back to Iris, propping his chin up with one fist, and huffs. It takes him longer than it should to realize that she’s smiling.   
  
“What?” he demands. Iris opens her mouth to answer, but is interrupted when Barry strolls in from the hallway, his tie undone, his sleeves rolled up. He halts at the scene before him, looking surprised.   
  
“Whoops, are you giving a pep talk?” he asks Iris, who rolls her eyes. He starts to back out of the kitchen. “Because I can reschedule my—”   
  
“Never mind!” Wally yells firmly, inwardly cringing at the thought of whatever perfectly mortifying thing Barry had almost said. “Look, I was just leaving.”   
  
He stands rapidly, brushing his hands off on his jeans even though there’s nothing on them. He focuses his gaze on the floor, refusing to look at Barry, and maybe he can admit that he’s being a bit juvenile, but that only makes it worse.   
  
“Hey, wait a second, Wally,” Barry objects, and Wally, much to his own chagrin, stops in the kitchen doorway, resting one hand on the frame.   
  
Wally turns to look at him, and Barry is frowning at him in something like disappointment. It hurts just as much as it always has, on the rare occasions that it’s appeared in the first place, but Wally gives nothing away.   
  
“Yeah?” he grunts indifferently.   
  
Barry’s face loosens slightly. Iris is glancing warningly at him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.   
  
“Are you still sore that I lapped you today?” he finally asks. “Because come on, Wally. I’ve been doing that for years; I thought you were—”   
  
Wally’s insides feel as though they have hardened, and his mind flashes back to a few hours ago, when he had been exerting himself beyond breath and had still been lapped multiple times by both Barry and Bart.   
  
_ This is so humiliating _ .   
  
“ _Thank_ you, Uncle Barry,” he replies coldly. “ _Thank you_.”   
  
Without another blink, he stomps out of the kitchen, past the couch where Bart is still seated, and up to the front door; he flings it open and storms out out, slamming it viciously behind him. The February air is bitter around him, but he trudges to the zeta tube without complaint, trying to wash the pounding red from his vision.   
  
Back in the kitchen, Iris whacks Barry on the shoulder with a ladle.   
  
“Ow!” he shouts, flinching away, his eyes wide with consternation. “What was _that_ for?”   
  
Iris wordlessly glares at him, and he balks at the intensity, rubbing his shoulder.   
  
“I’m guessing I said the wrong thing again?” he asks flatly, wincing.   
  
Iris raises her eyebrows and nods up at him, her lips folding inward tightly, and he grimaces, letting out a tortured sigh.   
  
“Look, Iris, I can’t help that the kid’s been all cranky lately,” he defends helplessly. “I don’t know _what’s_ eating him, but every time he comes over it’s like we’re all walking on eggshells.”   
  
“Land mines, more like. Is that what they’re called?” Bart chimes in, having seemingly materialized between them. They both jump and leap back, startled. He laughs. “Jeez, and they say being old doesn’t make you deaf! Seriously, what’s up with him? I was gonna try to get it outta him myself but he kept hissing and spitting and generally being totally moded. Does he have emotional problems?”   
  
“Of course not, Bart,” Iris tells him in exasperation. “He’s just—” She breaks off, frowning hesitantly, as though unable to decide whether she should continue. She glances over at Barry, who has wandered over to the tray of leftover hors d’œuvres and is eating them in twos.   
  
“He was Barry’s sidekick for five years,” she begins evenly.   
  
“Yeah, sure, I know that! Flash and Kid Flash, fastest men alive, protectors of Central City, Kid Flash promising candidate for Justice League but chooses Stanford, I know it all. What’s the issue?” Bart rambles, blinking expectantly up at her.   
  
She sighs tightly and throws the towel over to the sink. Bart, shockingly, is silent, waiting for her to continue.   
  
“Bart, I think this is just a lot for him to take in,” Iris finally settles on saying, hoping the subtlety won’t be lost on Bart.   
  
It is.   
  
“What is? His super-fast futuristic awesome cousin dropping in for a family reunion? Or I guess a family museum exhibit. Whatever.” He gesticulates with each word, his hands blurring. “I thought he’d be thrilled! Y’know, especially about the awesome part!”   
  
“I’m… sure he is,” Iris lies. “Listen, just give him some space; he’ll come around. But… in the future…” She pointedly glares at Barry, who seems to sense the expression and stands at attention. “ _Try_ not to constantly remind him that you can both lap him, all right?”   
  
Barry demurs pensively, frowning to himself, starting to look a little guilty. Bart goes quiet, too, seemingly realizing what Iris is getting at, and glances away.   
  
Iris looks between the two of them, fidgeting at the silence. After a moment, she breaks it.   
  
“Well, I think that’s enough fun for one evening,” she says wearily, gently pushing the two of them aside so that she can wipe some leftover crumbs from the cutting board. “I’m guessing Bart’ll be staying with us?”   
  
Her question is met with silence, and she glances over her shoulder to see Barry staring in terror at her, making slashing motions across his throat with his hand and fiercely mouthing “no.” Bart, being in front of him, doesn’t notice, and is infinitesimally bouncing as he watches Iris for a response.    
  
“Uh... just for tonight?” she appends hastily, and Barry smacks a hand to his forehead silently, but Bart seems pleased as punch.   
  
“You’re a first-class lady, Grandma!” he declares, zipping forward and giving her one of his trademark hugs that causes her to wheeze. “I promise I’ll be good! I’m totally housebroken, no sweat; I won’t pee on anything. Where am I sleeping? Do I get the couch? I’ve always wanted to see a couch! Uh—a vintage one, y’know, with the cushions and the ugly patterns! I love couches. I want the couch.”   
  
He’s out of sight before Iris can even splutter out a syllable, chattering his way into the living room, and she hears a sudden crash and a loud “I’ll pay for that!” before Barry is standing behind her, looking sour.   
  
“Iris, I love the kid, but he’s gonna blow the house up before the night’s over,” he grumbles, crossing his arms.    
  
Iris raises a skeptical, but fond, eyebrow.    
  
“You’ve barely known him a day and you already ‘love the kid?’” she says, smirking. Barry stiffens and glances away.    
  
“Well, he’s—” Barry clears his throat. “He’s nice. Got a good head on his shoulders.”   
  
Iris all-out laughs at that one.   
  
“ _Him_?” she repeats incredulously. Barry shrugs in exasperation.   
  
“I don’t know, Iris, it just felt nice having somebody out there with me again!” he tells her. Her smile fades.   
  
“Wally was there, too,” she tells him gently. He frowns.   
  
“I know he was, but he...” He sighs pensively, rubbing the back of his neck in thought. “It’s not the same, Iris. _He’s_ not the same. It was great to have him, but he—I don’t know. I don’t know him anymore.”   
  
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Iris ripostes breezily. “You know him just as well as you always have. He’s in _college_ , for Pete’s sake.”   
  
“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Barry’s hand stops in his hair and his eyebrows tighten. “Look, I know he _chose_ to quit, but I still can’t help feeling like I _made_ him, somehow.”   
  
“You didn’t,” Iris assures him quietly, looping her arm up around his shoulders. “He was shaken up about Aquagirl; we all were. He made a good decision.”   
  
“So what’s he so bitter about, then?” Barry asks, sounding almost angry. “He’s the one who hung up the costume and moved to California. He should’ve been _happy_ I had someone to have my back today. And that Bart kid is incredible. I can’t believe they didn’t hit it off.”   
  
“Barry,” Iris says, “of course they didn’t hit it off. Wally was by your side for years, so naturally he’s going to be jostled when it looks like he’s being replaced.”   
  
“He left his slot open!” Barry exclaims.   
  
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t _look_ at it like there’s _one slot_ to be filled,” Iris retorts firmly. “And Wally is _just_ as incredible as Bart is, Barry. I know you haven’t forgotten that.”   
  
“‘Course I haven’t,” Barry mutters. “I just thought he’d moved on. And that was fine. But if he made the choice to leave this behind, then he doesn’t have the right to get defensive when someone comes along to take his place.”   
  
“Do you even hear yourself?” Iris’ eyes are wide. “Someone to _take his place_? If _you_ see it that way, why shouldn’t _he_?”    
  
“That’s not what I meant,” Barry insists. “It’s just—I’m...” He breaks off with a groan and drops his head into his hands. “You’d think this kind of stuff wouldn’t be so complicated.”   
  
“Just put yourself in his shoes for a second,” Iris says. “Think about how all this has made him feel. You picked him up and carried him away from an explosion because he wasn’t going fast enough. From what he told _me_ , you and Bart operated like he wasn’t even there. Both you _and_ the kid lapped him, and he’s _always_ been insecure about that. He’s off the job for two years and the second he comes back, he’s being sidelined. I know you’re not doing it intentionally, but you’re making him feel like he just doesn’t belong anymore.”   
  
Barry’s eyebrows shoot up. “But I never—”   
  
“I _know_ you never said that,” Iris interrupts placidly, squeezing his shoulder. “But just _think_ about what you’ve been doing. I know you’re not used to working with him anymore; it’s been two years, I understand. And I know that you and Bart have that blood bond that gives you this kind of tandem you only ever _had_ with Wally way back in the day. And I know we don’t see Wally much anymore, and I know things have changed, but he’s still just as eager to be your partner as he was when he recreated that experiment and almost got himself killed. Why do you think he put on that suit today, Barry? Today, of all days? He _knew_ that you and Bart would work together well and he knew that he wasn’t _needed_ , but he went to help you anyway, because he wanted to protect you and to be at your side and _show you_ that he’s still with you. He didn’t go because he had to; you _know_ that, and so did he. He went because he wanted to be Kid Flash again, just once. But I think all of this just made him think that he isn’t Kid Flash anymore. And whether he quit of his own volition or not, he doesn’t deserve to think that.”   
  
Barry is staring down at her, galvanized into silence.    
  
“Bart is just a reminder of what he could be, but isn’t,” she continues quietly. “You used to be the only person who could ever make Wally feel slow. That changed today. He’s out of practice, so it’s worse, but—" She breaks off, considering her words. "Barry, let me ask you one question.”   
  
Barry nods wordlessly.   
  
“If you really believe that Wally has given up on all of this,” she says, “and if you really believe that he’s done with you, then why do you think he had a suit that still fit him?”   
  
Barry’s shoulders loosen, and an expression of realization crawls onto his face, and he lets out a long breath, seeming, briefly, years older. Iris frowns up at him.    
  
“I know you miss him,” she murmurs.   
  
Barry’s mouth thins and he pushes his hair back, inhaling and exhaling slowly through his nose.    
  
“Yeah,” he finally says, so quietly that Iris barely hears it. The conversation ebbs, and they stand in the kitchen without moving for a while, and the clock in the hallway chimes twelve times before Barry speaks again.   
  
“I’m glad he’s got Artemis,” he states frankly. “He seems – really happy, when it comes to her.”   
  
Iris smiles with a knowing snort and Barry is relieved by the geniality, grateful that the somber tone has been slightly alleviated.    
  
“I’m sure she’s got a fridge full of food waiting for him,” Iris says with a shake of her head. “That should make him feel better before the day’s over.”   
  
“The day _is_ over,” Barry groans, stretching. His back cracks with the motion. “And I consider that a good cue to go to bed, ’specially since I saved the world today and all.”   
  
“You had help,” Iris adds. Barry stops mid-stretch and his eyes wander to the ceiling.   
  
“I certainly did,” he agrees. “G’night. I’ll see you in a few.”   
  
Iris smiles. “Sure thing, babe. I just gotta finish cleaning up in here.”   
  
Barry rolls his eyes as he shuffles out. “Okay, so I’ll see you in a few _days_. Same thing.”   
  
She manages to aim a whack at his arm before he’s fully out of the kitchen and lets out a fond scoff before kneeling down to clean out the oven.   
  
Unbeknownst to her, Bart is loitering just beyond the wall separating the kitchen from the living room, and has been since she and Barry had started talking. His head had been bowed in thought a few moments ago, but he had perked up at the mention of a fridge full of food, and when he hears the bathroom door close down the hall, he zooms into the bedroom and snatches Barry’s phone off of the bedside table.   
  
“Artemis... Artemis... man, if you’re who I think you are...” he mutters to himself, and finally he manages to uncover the contact information of one Artemis Crock, even on such an infernally ancient piece of machinery.    
  
“16 Spisak Avenue... #2... Palo Alto, California... Score!” He pumps his fist in silent victory before dropping the phone and speeding out.    
  
“Later, grandma! I’m staying with friends tonight; don’t wait up!” he calls to Iris as he sprints by her through the kitchen, and he doesn’t give her the chance to reply before he’s out the door and at the phone booth zeta tube three blocks down.    
  
“This should be interesting,” he mutters with a wry grin.   
  
Good thing he’d tricked Garfield into giving him A-level zeta tube access.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bloodlines gave me too many feelings NOT to inspire an enormous fic response to its brilliance. The idea was actually a lot smaller, initially, but now it exploded into a ten thousand word hodge-podge and still isn't done, so posting it in parts seemed best.  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bart Allen decides that spending a couple of weeks with Wally and Artemis is the best way to adjust to twenty-first century life, Wally is forced to adjust, too. It's going to take a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say for the sake of argument that Jade is perfectly comfortable with telling Artemis about her husband and daughter. Shh, just go with it. (The dog's name still is, and will always be, Nelson to me.)

It's almost midnight when Artemis' cell phone rings, effectively startling her awake until she nearly falls off the couch. She manages to snatch onto the back sharply before she can lose her balance, righting herself and blindly groping around for the cell phone in the dark. She finally grabs it and woozily flips it open, pressing it to her ear and falling back on the couch, her legs lazily askew.

"Yeah?" she croaks wearily, one arm slung over her eyes.

"Hello, is this the Crock-West Babysitting Service?" an all-too-familiar voice drawls, and Artemis jolts upright, her braid whacking her in the chin.

"I'm sorry, you have the wrong number," she hisses, about to hang up.

"No, I'm  _sure_ this is the right one," the voice says. "Anyway… I may or may not require your services."

"Jade…" Artemis groans, pinching the bridge of her nose with one hand. "It's late. Wally's going to be back in a few minutes, unless he fell down a manhole. What do you want?"

"I want you to take care of Lian for a day or two," Jade purrs back coolly. Artemis frowns and starts to repeat the name questioningly, but Jade drowns her out. "You see, my husband and I have managed to stumble upon something that has just caused him emotional trauma—" (" _Husband?_ " Artemis squawks, almost falling off the couch again.) "—And even though Lian does wonderfully in the terrible Tibetan blizzards, I don't know if she can handle seeing her father weep and brood. You're my only hope."

"Jade," Artemis interrupts sharply. " _Who_  is Lian? And what did you just say about— _husband_?"

"Oh… didn't you get the memo?" Jade muses boredly. "I could've  _sworn_ I told you. Well, anyway – long story short, I married Roy Harper and gave birth to his daughter."

Artemis lets out a completely undignified shriek of terror and throws the phone across the room. Almost immediately, she scrambles off the couch and snatches it up again, screaming into the receiver, "You  _what_?"

"Artemis, for the love of— _shut up_!" Jade admonishes her. "I have a sleeping infant here!"

"You've—but—Roy—and the—baby?" Artemis splutters, falling back on her bottom and sitting dumbstruck in the middle of the living room.

"I knew you'd help me," Jade chirps. "I'll be there to drop her off in five minutes. Don't bother waiting. I'll just leave her on the doorstep."

Artemis flounders wordlessly as Jade cheerfully says good-bye and hangs up, leaving her with nothing but a dial tone. After a moment's pause to attempt to collect herself, she dazedly starts to stand, but there is a sudden crash to her left and a burst of wind that nearly bowls her over again.

"Wow, sweet pad!"

She looks up stiffly to see a boy, no older than fifteen, standing beside her flung-open door, his hands on his hips, beaming at her. He is wearing some sort of wacky taupe-and-burgundy supersuit, and a red-rimmed yellow  _visor-thing_ is covering his eyes, and—there are two lightning bolts coming out of the round gold protrusions over his ears.

A speedster.

If Artemis were a weaker woman, she would have keeled over and fainted right then and there, but, being Artemis, she instead chooses to leap to her feet and pounce at him, her muscles tensed and ready. He zips out of the way easily, and she lands where he'd been standing before whirling on him again, crouching down in a defensive pose. He's still grinning like some sort of baboon, gazing around the inside of the apartment with wide, enthusiastic eyes.

"Very nice taste in décor! So retro. Seal of approval. So I heard you had food here, and I love me some food. Don't bother asking for my sources; they're top secret. Let's just say a little bird told me, shall we? Oh, and not to pry, but what's your name? Probably should've asked that before I kicked open your door. Anyway, I'm Bart Allen, or Bart, or Impulse, or—"

"Stop!" Artemis commands suddenly, throwing up a hand. The boy – Bart – peters to a halt, blinking at her. She finally straightens, tossing her braid back over her shoulder, and narrows her eyes at him. "One thing at a time, kid, and while you're explaining who  _exactly_ you are, try to remember that I can kill you with my little finger."

"Crash," Bart Allen replies nonchalantly. "Not that I'm gonna put that to the test or anything, but crash."

"Wait," Artemis interrupts, eyes widening. "Did you say Bart  _Allen_?"

"Sure did!" He beams. "Ace hearing there, ma'am, really top notch – I'm the grandson of Barry Allen, y'know, from the future! Would've gone  _back_ to the future but my machine kinda got fried, so I'm stuck here, but it isn't so bad! Not when there are ladies like you around!"

Artemis groans, slapping a hand to her forehead.

"Yeah, you're Allen-spawn, all right," she grumbles into her palm.

"Whoa, and you didn't even try to take my DNA or anything!" Bart exclaims, sounding astonished. "I like you. You're  _way_ more crash than that Dick Grayson guy."

Artemis' eyes widen.

"He—he  _told you_ his—?" she chokes out, unable to even imagine Nightwing throwing his real name around to random futuristic strangers.

"Nah, are you kidding? Read it in the history books!" He claps a hand over his mouth. "Oops, spoilers. Are these spoilers? I'm guessing you're in the heroing gig since Gramps recommended your address. So you have security clearance, right? Ah, whatever! Spoiler alert! Spoiler alert! Now you can't say I didn't warn you! Hopefully you have Space-Time Continuum Savior—"

"Okay!" Artemis screeches, throwing her arms out in sheer frustration. "Stop talking!"

"What fo—oh, oops," Bart cuts himself off, tapping one antsy foot and fidgeting. Artemis stares him down fiercely, and he looks right back with those inquisitive green eyes and she grits her teeth and huffs, as though maybe she can exhale some of her tetchiness.

"Okay. Step one," she begins, and he straightens attentively. "I'll just try to get the facts straight. You're… Bart Allen, the Flash's grandson from the future."

"Got it in one!" he bandies back with a grin. Artemis narrows her eyes dangerously and he eschews.

"And you came to the past… why, exactly?"

"To see the sights! Meet the Flash—in his prime, I mean! 'S all totally crash. Oh, by the way!" He's out the door and back inside in a blur, and he's suddenly holding a blanketed bundle in his hands. "Saw this on your porch! I'm guessing it's yours, but I didn't wanna touch it – not my property, y'know? But it started crying, so I figured…"

He thrusts it into her catatonic arms and beams toothily. Artemis realizes immediately that the thing around the object in her hands isn't a blanket, but some sort of hooded swaddling, and she lets out a gasp when she notices the infant that just happens to be wrapped in it.

It's a girl, with a tuft of auburn hair and endearing dark grey eyes that look exactly like Jade's. She blinks sleepily up at Artemis before seeming to recognize some aspect of her, at which point she squirms around and giggles. Artemis can see small teeth coming in.

Her phone beeps on the coffee table and she glances over at it, gingerly holding the baby as though her cuteness could be contagious.

_New text from JADE:_   
_Sister dearest, meet Lian. Back for her in two days._

"So is it yours?" Bart pipes up. Artemis gives a start, having temporarily forgotten that he was there. "I can take it to the Lost and Found or something if it isn't—"

"No!" Artemis splutters. "No, it's— _she_ is mine." She pauses, sighing. "For the next two days, anyway."

"Great!" Bart sounds far happier about this than Artemis would have thought. "A new party member! Wait, is that too new of a joke?"

"You're not  _that_  far in the past, moron," Artemis growls. Lian's tiny arms have wriggled out of the swaddling and are flapping gleefully up and down. " _Please_ tell me there was something else out there. Like, I don't know, clothes."

Bart leaps out to check and returns in an instant with a pink duffle bag in his hand. Artemis squints. There are two initials monogrammed onto it:  _R.H._

Bart throws it onto the couch without giving it a second glance and flops down beside it before it lands, kicking his booted feet up onto the coffee table and putting his hands behind his head, leaning back.

"Nice couch you've got here," he tells her. "I like couches. Totally crashin'. Hey, you said something about food?"

"Uh,  _no_ ," Artemis snaps emphatically, but he's already in the kitchen, rummaging around the refrigerator.

"A whole ham!" he exclaims. "Perfect! Can I have it?"

" _No_ ," Artemis shouts, but it's already in the oven, and he's suddenly got an apple in his mouth and two more in his hands, balancing a Coca-Cola can on his head.

"Coca-Cola, so retro!" The apple impairs his articulateness somewhat, but Artemis, having spent many years around Wally, has no trouble understanding it. He sets the apples and the soda can down on the counter before continuing to forage. "I smell leftover Chinese food! At least I  _think_  it's Chinese food; I've only ever smelled experimental recreations in museums—this looks  _tasty_! I give you an A+ on your fridge!"

Artemis is still staring at Lian, who is babbling and kicking and looking altogether cheerful to have been dropped on a stranger's porch after being carried around Tibet in the snow, and she has no idea how this is her life.

"You're quiet. That's cool! I can deal with quiet! But I really need to know how to preheat this oven— _ow_!"

Artemis' head jerks up just in time to see a shoe suddenly hit Bart square in the face as he faces her from his position in front of the oven. She whirls around, clutching Lian to her chest protectively, but relaxes when she sees Wally standing in the doorway, missing one sneaker.

 _Fuming_.

"What," he ekes out, his voice trembling with rage, "Is.  _He_. Doing. In. My. Fridge."

"'Your' fridge?" Artemis deadpans.

Wally blinks as though just hearing her and glances over. His expression of pure fury is immediately replaced by one of comical horror as he leaps back and yells, "Oh my god! That's not ours, is it?"

Artemis does not know how this is her life.

"Yeah, Wally, I just decided to give birth while you were out!" she bites back with every ounce of sarcasm she has. "It's  _Jade's_." She pauses. "And Roy's."

"Roy—Jade—baby?" Wally squawks, and then he shakes his head before redirecting his attentions to Bart, who is in the process of shoving an entire take-out box of beef chow mein into his mouth. " _You_! Step away from the fridge!"

Bart blinks, wide-eyed, before slowly lowering the chow mein and gently setting it down beside the blender. A noodle is still dangling from his mouth and he quickly sucks it up before putting his hands behind his back innocently.

"Wally, Wally West!" he exclaims. "Wow, been so long. You look great. Have you been working out?"

"What are you doing in my house?" Wally demands, his voice cracking. Artemis hasn't heard it do that since he got a B- on his Vietnamese Lit paper two weeks ago.

"Fourplex," she mutters flatly, not expecting to be heard. She isn't.

"Oh, and if it's not too much trouble," Wally adds, " _please_ answer this question without any spoilers."

"Spoiler-free version? Okay!" Bart taps his chin thoughtfully. "Here goes." He straightens, his expression serious. "I was hungry."

"You were  _hungry_ ," Wally repeats lowly. "You were  _hungry_?"

"I got an anonymous tip that this residence has a good selection for hungry folks like myself," Bart explains further. "Spoiler alert: I found the address on Gramps' phone."

"Stop calling him Gramps!" Wally snaps. "He's not—"

"Related to me? Seriously, where have  _you_  been? We've gone over this. First piece of evidence: Allen family eyes!" Bart throws his hands in the air enthusiastically. "Man, I don't know  _what_ I have to do to get you to believe me."

"You can start by stepping away from my fridge and leaving my house and never showing your face again," Wally hisses, his fists clenched at his sides.

Bart puts his hands up defensively and nudges the refrigerator door shut with his hip, having the decency to look sheepish.

"See, I can only maybe do step one, because I'm kinda gonna be staying here for a while," he says nonchalantly.

Wally twitches.

"You're  _what_?"

"Gonna be your house guest!" Bart explains, grinning. "Not that I don't love Grandma and Grandpa's, but they're  _way_ too serious for my liking. Plus, you've got food! And I figure we should get to know each other better!"

He sends a pointed look at Artemis, who has managed to busy herself with unpacking the duffel bag and inspecting the contents while balancing the unwrapped Lian on her hip. She doesn't notice, but Wally does, and he shoehorns himself into Bart's field of vision, looking murderous.

"I'm gonna make this as monosyllabic as possible," he grinds out, clearly forcing calm into his voice. He raises one hand and counts off the words on his fingers. "No.  _Thanks_."

"Aw, c'mon!" Bart whines, but Wally has already grabbed him by the shoulder and started dragging him toward the door.

He wrenches out of Wally's grip and stands firmly in the middle of the living room, his hands balled into tight fists, his eyebrows taut. Wally faces him, glowering, daring him to speak.

Artemis notices the silence and looks up. Lian follows her gaze, clinging to her shirt with one hand, gazing reverently at Wally.

"Listen," Bart says quietly. "I'm stuck in the past. Basic knowledge by now. As long as I'm all rooted in the mode—" Wally narrows his eyes and Bart huffs. "As long as I'm rooted— _here_ , I'd like to, uh..." He lowers his eyes, looking nothing short of pitiful.

"I'll get some blankets for the couch," Artemis announces before she can even think to say it. Wally's head whips around incredulously, but she doesn't look at him. Bart is staring at her with wide eyes. To explain herself, she wearily adds, "Look, I just got my sister's baby dumped on my porch; I'm really past the point of caring. Stay as long as you want."

Wally looks about ready to throw himself off the top of a skyscraper, but Bart's face splits into a wide grin and he barrels forward to grab Artemis in the tightest hug she's ever received. She chokes, and Lian claps her tiny hands enthusiastically.

"Thank you!" Bart practically squeals, clutching her with so much force that she's pretty sure her eyes are bugging out. "Thank you, thank you,  _thank you_! This is the best day of my life!"

Wally's hand smacks over his face and slowly runs down it, tugging at his skin, before dropping to his side again.

"Well—you— _probably_ don't want to finish it off by—suffocating someone," Artemis wheezes, prying him off. He stands at attention, gazing joyfully up at her, and she raises one cynical eyebrow.

"Yeah, that would be majorly un-crash," he agrees as solemnly as he can while still grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah! Fridge-hunting!"

He bounds back into the kitchen and flings the fridge open, ignoring Wally's strangled cry of protest.

"Now, where'd I put that chow mein...?" he muses. He hears stormy footsteps approach, but doesn't turn around.

"Right about  _here_ ," Wally growls from behind him, and suddenly, Bart feels an entire take-out box of noodles empty out onto his head.

" _Wally_!" Artemis shouts. Bart glances at the surface of the metal handle of the fridge and sees the chow mein box perched upside-down on his head.

He reaches up and removes it without a word, but by the time he turns around, Wally has left the kitchen and slammed the bedroom door closed behind him.

"What," Bart murmurs, and then his voice strengthens into a yell aimed at the door, "is his  _problem_?"

"Do you want me to make you a list?" Artemis sighs, bouncing Lian on her hip. Bart pulls the noodles out of his hair and grimaces, throwing them onto the floor furiously.

Artemis raises her eyebrows.

"A speedster dumping food?  _That's_ new," she says. Bart's lip curls.

"Lost my appetite," he mutters, and he's never said those words in his life.

 

 

 

How Artemis manages to procure sheets and blankets and two pillows from the closet and seamlessly affix them to the couch while balancing Lian on one hip, Bart will never know. But soon enough, he's seated on the couch with a white t-shirt and a pair of Flash-themed boxer shorts folded on the coffee table in front of him, and Artemis is watching him with one wary eye while Lian pulls on her hair with gusto.

"Do you have anything to wear besides the spandex?" she asks wearily. Lian burps and giggles.

"This isn't  _spandex_!" Bart protests. "It's—"

"Okay, spare me," Artemis yells before he can continue. "I'll take that as a no?"

Bart shakes his head. Artemis presses her fingers to her temple and exhales through her nose.

"We'll... figure that out tomorrow, I guess," she sighs. "Thank  _God_ Jade decided to do this on a Friday night."

Bart raises an eyebrow. "Does that make a difference?"

Artemis stares at him.

"It's... the weekend," she says slowly. "I don't have any classes."

Bart immediately recovers and sits up straight, wrestling the grin back onto his face.

"Oh, right, of course, of course! Sorry, it's just... in the future, every day's the weekend!" The lies have been getting progressively easier the more often he tells them.

Artemis doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't press the issue, probably because Lian has started to doze against her shoulder. She looks up at the clock: ten minutes after two.

"Okay, sweetie, let's get you to bed," she coos. Bart perks up.

"Me?"

" _No_ , not you, the baby," Artemis barks. Bart wilts as Artemis pads over the hardwood floor and disappears down the hallway.

"Don't tell me you actually have a  _crib_ for that thing," he says incredulously. He can hear Artemis' sigh all the way in the living room.

"It's my sister's old one," she calls back. "It used to be at my mom's place, but she wanted to get rid of it forever and when I finally moved here... let's just say she took advantage of the situation."

She hadn't even called him out on referring to Lian as "that thing." She  _is_ tired, Bart realizes.

"D'you want some help?" he offers hesitantly.

"Nah," Artemis replies. "Just don't let Nelson onto the couch. He's incoming. "

Bart's eyebrows furrow. "Nels—?"

He is cut off when, seemingly out of nowhere, a white pitbull suddenly comes scrabbling around the corner of the hallway and bounds onto the couch, effectively bowling him over. He cries out in astonishment.

"You let him onto the couch," Artemis deadpans, but Bart barely hears her as the dog snuffles at his face, its paws digging into his stomach.

"Whoa..." he rasps, and Nelson snorts into his hair. He bats the snout away and rolls out from under the canine, toppling onto the floor in a heap.

"If anything in there's broken when I come back," Artemis admonishes him dangerously, "I'll shoot your eyes out the back of your skull."

Bart harbors no doubts about it. And he generally likes his eyes – which reminds him, he needs to take his goggles off.

He tiredly pushes them up onto his forehead as he stands, momentarily stunned that his surroundings look much less yellow, but he doesn't have much time to process it all before Nelson is bouncing around him again. He hears a noise to his left and sees Artemis with her arms crossed, standing on the threshold of the hallway.

"He gets excited whenever it looks like he just met someone who'll feed him table scraps," she explains, and the words are strangely sentimental for someone as seemingly abrasive as she is. Bart doesn't reply, blinking down at the dog, who has seated himself and is panting cheerfully up at him.

"He's nice," he says plainly. Another slip in character. "I mean, uh – great pooch, really a delight! Does he do birthday parties? I'll bet he's a real hit with the kiddies. And the kitties. Hah! See what I did there?"

Artemis' brows furrow. "Uh, yes. Har har." She runs her hand through her hair, looking nothing short of exhausted. "Look, I'm gonna... I'm gonna sleep. Okay? You can just, um, not break anything until morning and we'll go from there."

"Sounds like a plan, Miss 'Mis!" Bart salutes her, stuffing down the unenthusiasm threatening to crawl up his limbs. "Request permission to have midnight snacks if necessary!"

"It's two in the morning," Artemis groans.

"Yes," Bart agrees. Artemis considers him skeptically for a moment before throwing her hands in the air in defeat and muttering to herself in a language he doesn't understand. She finally turns around and drags herself to the bedroom door, slipping in and closing it quietly behind her.

Bart's eyes wander to the boxers on the table. Bright red. Flash insignias all over them. He's seen a pair in a museum once. They'd had ash-stains on them, but they were there.

He closes his eyes. The insides of his lids have images of gray desolation branded onto them, and he wrenches them open again, groaning quietly as he falls onto the couch. Nelson watches him curiously.

"Home," he murmurs before standing to change, "sweet home."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to post this one. Oops. At least it's short.

Artemis had been approximately one hundred and ten percent certain that waking up to the sound of a baby crying would be the absolute last thing that would happen to her, at least until she was about thirty years old, give or take a bit. This is why, when she is jostled awake by a kick to the shin and a tetchy grumble of, "The baby needs you," her first reaction is panic.

"What baby," she chokes out with no inflection, eyes wide as she stares at the ceiling, spread-eagled and paralyzed.

Wally groans beside her, pulling the sheets over his head.

"Your sister's baby," he mumbles. "Calm down and turn it off."

"Wally, it's a baby, not an alarm clock," she growls, elbowing him as she clambers out of bed, throwing the sheets off of him for good measure. He grumbles crankily, curling up as if in rebellion. She scoffs at him and stumbles out of the room, almost forgetting to open the door, but managing to save herself the embarrassment of smashing into it.

Lian's wailing can be heard in practically every crevice; as soon as Artemis steps out into the hallway, her ears start ringing from the shrillness. She notices right away that Bart is mysteriously absent from the couch, and suddenly, the fact that Lian is crying doesn't seem too far-fetched.

" _Allen_!" she yells, striding down the hall with her fists at her sides and rounding the corner into the spare room in which she'd set up Lian's crib. Bart is standing over the crib with a terrified expression and he throws his hands defenselessly in the air when she enters, leaping back.

"I didn't do anything!" he exclaims. "I didn't touch it! I'm just an innocent bystander!"

"Yeah, yeah," Artemis growls, not really caring. She crowds past him and looks down at Lian with her hands on her hips and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Lian's face is blotchy and red and her nose is running and she is clawing at the air as though it had offended her, and Artemis has no idea what to do.

"What're you waiting for?" Bart demands. "Aren't you gonna pick her up or something? Cradle her? Sing a lullaby? The song of your people? Funny faces are always a plan, too, although I don't know if she'd be able to see them through all that snot, hey, I'll get a tissue!"

He's out the door in a blink and back again with a pink box of Kleenex, holding it out to Artemis like a sacred object. She gives him an askance look before plucking two tissues out and leaning down to snake her arms around Lian and lift her out of the crib, gently cradling her. Bart is watching with rapt attention, as though this is all a demonstration he's required to commit to memory, though the thought of Bart handling an infant is enough to make  _Artemis_ want to cry.

"Hey, shh, what's the matter?" she whispers, carefully wiping at Lian's face with one of the tissues. "Did Bart scare you?"

"I didn't!" Bart protests, looking insulted. "If anything,  _I_ should be given a medal for having the quickest response time! If it weren't for me, she'd be doomed! Hey, where's Mr. Emotional Constipation? Still snoozing? Good; he'd make this all worse. Has she stopped crying yet?"

" _No_ , Bart," Artemis groans as Lian kicks her in the shoulder (somehow). "I'm guessing you don't have any future-knowledge about how to get babies to go back to sleep."

"Just the basics! Sing to them, act like a moron, help them burp, all that good stuff. Maybe she likes Disney movies? I mean, I wouldn't know; those things are like,  _sooo_ ancient, but—"

"Thanks for your input," Artemis cuts him off tersely, deciding that she shouldn't have asked him in the first place. "Okay... let's see..."

That's how she finds herself pacing up and down the hallway while Lian screams relentlessly into her shoulder. Bart follows in her wake like an attentive dog, and Nelson follows in  _his_ wake like a slightly less attentive dog, and Artemis lets Lian pull on her hair and generally just hopes that the kid will eventually exhaust herself to the point of sleep.

"It's been like... half an hour," Bart tells her, poking his head over her shoulder. "Maybe she misses her mom!"

"Well, not much we can do about that, is there?" Artemis snaps, all patience gone. Bart balks at her and she sighs apologetically. "Sorry, sorry. I just have no idea what I'm supposed to do."

"Lost and Found is still an option," Bart offers. Artemis shoots him a murderous glare.

"I'm about five seconds away from sending you back to the couch," she hisses.

"You can't do that! I'm a free man!" Bart declares, pointing a finger in the air for emphasis. "I will not be confined to any couches!"

Artemis immediately goes through several different methods in her head of confining him to the couch, most of which involve knocking him unconscious with a baseball bat, but chooses not to act on any of them. She instead walks back into Lian's room and sets her gingerly down in the crib again. Lian, in response, shrieks to the high heavens, kicking furiously.

"I give up," Artemis says, slumped. "This is impossible. I never want kids."

"Never?"

She can't help but jump at the sound of the voice right next to her, and she spins to her left to see Wally slouched beside her, his eyes closed, his eyebrows tight.

"Ouch," he mutters. Artemis drops her head into her hand.

"It was a hyperbole," she replies lamely. Wally nods.

"Uh-huh," he mumbles. "That's... way too many syllables for me to handle at this hour."

"Aw, come on!" Bart chimes in, leaping up from behind them and throwing his arms around the both of them. "You guys'll make great parents!"

"Please, no spoilers," Wally groans, shifting out of Bart's grip.

Lian screams again, starting to sound hoarse. Artemis runs a hand through her hair. She'd tried practically everything she was equipped to – Lian had refused the bottle that had been in the duffle bag, refused the baby food; her diaper was clean, she seemed largely unharmed, and as far as she knew, no bad dreams were involved.

"Did you mean that?" Wally asks. Artemis looks over at him with a frown.

"Mean what?" She honestly doesn't remember anything she's said in the past hour.

"Never wanting kids," Wally explains, gesturing vaguely. "And... all that that implies."

Artemis stares at him.

"What? No," she replies emphatically. "I mean, I – I don't know; I hadn't thought about it. Maybe. I mean... No, of course not. Come on. It's just—"

As if to prove a point, Lian lets out another window-shaking wail. Wally winces at the sound.

"You just don't— _ugh_ , never mind," he snaps, turning to leave. "Whatever, I'm clearly not helping."

"Oh, for the love of—" Artemis grabs his wrist and drags him back. "Don't be ridiculous.  _None_ of us are helping."

"I am!" Bart pipes up, raising his hand. Artemis gives him a churlish look that he blinks innocently at before stepping back. "I'm helping," he mutters when Artemis returns her attentions to Wally.

"Why are you being so..." She throws her hands in the air in frustration. " _Stupid_ about everything?"

"I'm not being  _stupid_!" Wally protests, looking offended.

"Yes you are," Bart whispers in the smallest voice possible. Wally, naturally, doesn't hear him.

"I really thought we'd have gotten past the part where you call me stupid a few years ago," Wally grumbles, sounding genuinely hurt. Artemis, rather than simmering down as she normally would at that tone, just starts to feel infinitely more frustrated, and Lian's crying isn't doing much to calm her down.

"I think we're entitled to be  _honest_ with each other!" she snaps, folding her arms.

"Wow, so is there anything else you're not telling me?" Wally barks, glaring at her.

"Ooh, let me check my list," Artemis bites back sarcastically.

Bart is looking between them with an increasingly worried-looking expression, wringing his hands and sending fretful glances to the still-shrieking Lian.

"Uh, guys..." he tries to say, but neither of them hears him.

"Just because you're all flipped out about the new kid doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!" Artemis shouts. "I have to deal with this  _just_ as much as you do, Wally! Get a grip!"

"I'm not flip—it doesn't—I don't even care!" Wally flummoxes. "Whatever; it's not like the Flash is gonna need me anymore anyway, now that he's got Fancy Feet on his side." He sulks, voice quieting. "Should've known I was useless anyway."

Before Bart can ramble out an argument, Artemis has surged forward with one fist raised and punched Wally in the shoulder.

"Ow!" He stumbles back, rubbing it indignantly. "What was that for?"

Artemis opens her mouth to explain to him precisely what it was for, but she stops at the sudden, inexplicable sound of Lian not crying, but...  _laughing_.

She turns slowly back toward the crib and sees Lian clapping her small hands with enthusiasm, giggling joyfully, her eyes sparkling with delight. Bart sends a surprised expression to Lian, Artemis, and Lian again before straightening up and throwing his arms out in triumph.

"Crisis averted!" he announces.

"What did you...?" Wally asks, stunned, shuffling over to stand beside Artemis and stare down at the ebullient Lian. "Was that—Is this because you punched me?"

Artemis nods dumbfoundedly.

"Shouldn't you be concerned that she's cheered up by violence?" he continues.

Artemis can't help the smirk that comes onto her face.

"It's genetic," she explains breezily, quirking her eyebrow at him. He grimaces, but she can see the smallest hints of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah, no kidding," he agrees, finally releasing his shoulder. "That's gonna leave a bruise."

"Aw, you want me to kiss it better?" Artemis teases him.

He waggles his eyebrows.

"How long do I have to consider this offer?"

Artemis shoves his face gently away and snickers. "Don't be such a wimp."

"Right. I'll continue to not be a wimp while I go back to sleep," Wally assures her, leaving with a weary wave. From the hallway, she hears him groan, "Oh, god. Sunlight. Actual sunlight. What's happening to me."

"Well, now at least we know that if ever we face this problem again, we can just throw Wally in front of a car!" Bart says, sounding far too pleased at the prospect.

Artemis rolls her eyes, resting her arms on the edge of the crib as she watches Lian doze off as though nothing had happened.

Bart is next to her in an instant, looking compelled.

"Y'know, for a potential serial killer, she's kinda cute," he comments.

"And for a potential liability to the well-being of the world," Artemis retorts, "you're kinda tolerable."

Bart beams at her.

"It's genetic."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My knowledge of how to get babies to stop crying is about as extensive as Bart's, and it probably shows in this chapter. Also, I think this marks the end of Wally being a bitter asshole? Well, maybe not quite. But anyway, his grumpiness meter is gonna go down by about ten points.


End file.
